


The Road to Heaven is in the Arms of a Winchester

by cajunquandary



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27025681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cajunquandary/pseuds/cajunquandary
Summary: The reader gets hurt on a hunt. Will she get help in time?
Relationships: None
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	The Road to Heaven is in the Arms of a Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> @trexrambling requested, “Option A: He knew she was safe, and that was the only thing that mattered. OR Option B: All the words had been said, and now there was only a deep, aching silence.” I hope this does the trick :)

The hunt was never supposed to end this way.

The world around you felt muted—you were barely aware of the light, warm trickle from your nostril, the cold wind coming in from the broken window, your various bruises and lacerations from the fight, or the splintered wood floor upon which you’d fallen to your knees.

You always got back up from being thrown, even when you hit your head so hard you saw stars in your eyes, or momentarily lost the ability to hear. No matter what, you always stood back up and didn’t fall back down.

Not this time.

Everything moved in slow motion, but all too fast at the same time. Shapes were blending, and colors lost their distinction.

And then you were no longer on your knees, but fell onto your left side, which you couldn’t feel at all. When had you laid down? You stared, unblinking, fixed, into the dead eyes of the vampire’s severed head just a few inches away. Good. You may have been thrown by the damn thing, but at least the boys finished him off.

Where were they?

Why couldn’t you turn your head to look for them?

You blinked for the first time in what seemed like an hour, but had truly only been seconds.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Dean called to you from far away, but his hands were around you, pulling you up to his chest. “Sam, what happened? Was she bit? Y/N, talk to me, baby! Look at me, please,” his voice cracked.

Then you were in the back of the impala, Dean still clutching you to his chest. Sam was behind the wheel. I’m fine Dean, but what’s going on? We got the vamp, right? Dean?

After a moment, you realized you couldn’t speak. All that came out were garbled, quiet attempts. “Drive faster, dammit!” Dean was yelling at Sam. What the hell was going on?

Harsh Florescent lights flashed by quickly. 1, 2, 3, 4… Your head pounded, and you squinted against the light. Your vision was extremely narrow, and you quickly realized that you no longer had vision in your right eye. Now this, this was familiar. You were suffering from another migraine. This you could handle. But… where were you? Why were you so tired? Still unable to move to look around, darkness closed in fast.

“She had a brain aneurysm. We were able to take care of the hemorrhaging in surgery—“

“Hey, plain terms doc- was it a stroke? Is she dying?”

“No, Mr. Smith. An artery in her head burst and caused bleeding and swelling. We took care of the bleeding. We don’t yet know the extensiveness of damage caused by the swelling, but when she wakes up, we should have a better idea.”

“And you said that her migraines played a role in this?”

“Well, yes, a migraine can be an indication of an aneurysm. Some people get aneurysms and nothing ever happens. Others… aren’t so lucky. Her motorcycle wreck probably triggered it, especially since she wasn’t wearing a helmet.”

“What are her chances here, doc?”

“Well, she is breathing on her own, and that is a great sign. There seems to be normal brain activity, and when the drugs from surgery wear off, she should wake up. I’d say her chances at a decent recovery, if not full, are on the better side. I am going to hold her in the ICU for three days to see how she does, even if she improves. Also, I am prescribing her an anticoagulant drug to control and prevent post-traumatic seizures after surgery. This will keep her blood slippery so it doesn’t clot again. Her other injuries are minor enough that she shouldn’t bleed from them, but we will watch her closely to make sure.”

You still couldn’t see anything, but the conversation slowly grounded you. A warm hand grasped yours, and breath grazed your ear gently. “Y/N… wake up, sweat heart. Sammy brought you flowers. Later he is going to sneak in some burgers for us. And look—I found your favorite movie.”

You heard Fried Green Tomatoes in the background, the part where Idgie is mourning Buddy Sr.’s death. There was a sniffle and a weight pressed into your shoulder, heavy but warm. Your hand twitched, and the weight lifted. “Hey—hey come on, open your eyes…”

They cracked open barely, and the light coming in from the window stung, making your groan. Your throat was sore and scratchy. The window drew shut, and you opened your eyes a little wider. It took a moment to adjust and remember how to move them, but when they looked onto Dean’s you smiled weakly.

“Hey, Winchester.”

Dean gently held your face, mindful of your wrapped incision and kissed you, a single tear rolling down his puffy face.

“No chick flick moments,” you teased.

He bowed his head and laughed, “Don’t quote me to me.”

Sam knocked on the door. “Hey, she awake?”

“Yes and she is doing just fine, thank you.” You retorted.

Dean left, begrudgingly complying with the one visitor at a time rule.

Sam did his best to hug you. “So, that vamp threw you pretty hard. Why didn’t you tell us how bad the migraines were getting? You almost died. Dean was beside himself, security had to place him in holding until we could visit you,” Sam whispered.

“Well, that last doc I went to said I was fine, to take some Advil. Guess he was wrong.”

“No kidding.”

“They seriously had to put him in holding? Please tell me you have a video of this.” You tried to laugh, but it sent searing pain to your head. You gasped, feeling extremely worn out already.

“Unfortunately, no. but maybe we can hack into their system later and see if they caught it on camera. Hey… you should rest. We’ll be here.” Sam smiled sympathetically, squeezed your hand, and left.

Shortly after, the doctor came in and explained everything to you. The next few days were a blur of fading in and out of sleep, Dean trying to sneak in pie and getting scolded by the nurses, Sam talking about his time at Stanford with the doctor, whose son was headed there in the fall for law as well, and lots of tests to see how you were progressing. It seemed like Dean was always doing something to make the nurses mad, like messing with the monitors, making balloons out of the gloves, and other nonsense. It was a good thing that the ladies seemed to have a sweet spot for him, as he only ever got away with a scolding when it could’ve gotten him banned from the hospital.

Before you knew it, Dean was carrying you back into the bunker and placing you in his bed. He held you firmly in his arms and you relished in the scent of home—leather, whiskey, laundry detergent, and old books. In the warmth, you swiftly drifted back to sleep, more comfortable than you’d been in a long time, despite your injuries, excited to see Cas in the morning to come.

You woke shortly, sitting up and stretching deliciously. Nothing hurt anymore. Castiel must’ve come in your slumber and fixed what he could. There was a shuffle at the doorway and you turned, grinning, to see the angel.

Castiel appeared more ragged than usual and stank of whiskey. “Uh, Cas, are you okay?”

Tears gathered in stormy blue eyes and he stumbled forth to embrace you, a single racking sob emanating from the holy being. “Cas, what’s wrong? Your feathers are tickling my nose.” You sniffled and pulled back slightly as the angel moved to kneel, holding your hand with his head laid against it.

“I tried to get there as fast as I could. I’m so sorry, Y/N…”

“What do you mean?” Unease tingled over your spine.

“You never made it out of that hospital. Your condition… lead to complications.”

“That’s not true. I was at the bunker, I made it.”

“Everyone has a road that takes them to heaven. Yours happened to be in the arms of a Winchester.”

The Winchesters stood by as somber flames engulfed your body on the pyre. All the words had been said, and now there was only deep, aching silence between the men. Castiel walked forward slowly, laying shaking hands on both of the brothers and pressing his weight into the gesture. The boys turned, expectant of his findings. Castiel merely nodded, eyes cast down, unable to shoulder the guilt he felt for not preventing this. The hunters turned back, embers glowing red-orange, fire dying with the daylight. They knew she was safe in heaven, and that’s the only thing that mattered.


End file.
